


The "I" in Lie

by shakingshoulders



Category: Fall Out Boy, Soul Punk - Fandom
Genre: Cheating, Divorce, Peterick, Sadness, Soul Punk, This is trash, fall out boy - Freeform, patrick stump - Freeform, pete wentz - Freeform, soul punk!patrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:45:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6490273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakingshoulders/pseuds/shakingshoulders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soul Punk had taken so much time and energy Patrick barely had time to sleep. The divorce had taken so much of his being Pete could barely continue. This is the story of recrossed paths, for better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The "I" in Lie

**Author's Note:**

> This is so shitty, I wrote it on a long ass bus ride when I started crashing from my caffeine high. I'll update my other fics soon, here's a Soul Punk! one shot for now.

October 18th, 2011 was perhaps the most melancholy day in all of Pete Wentz's 32 years on Earth. Or so it seemed at the time. The washed-up, plaster-faced former poster boy of Fall Out Boy had been staying alone in Studio City for the past week since Ashlee had left, saying she needed "time to think about where they were going."

October was hot that year, and with fall feeling like summer, Pete took a walk downtown, getting a coffee from Starbucks, taking a few fan pictures, and just strolling the streets, watching passing cars and trying to occupy his thoughts. He remembered the little record store a few blocks or so away, but his heart sank as he approached the door, a poster hanging on it:

**_Patrick Stump's Soul Punk: Out Now!_ **

Pete shoved his hands in his pockets and marched as quickly from the store as possible.

 

Then, fast forward, to November 22nd, when his life seemed to blow up right in his face: Ashlee wanted to make it official. Things were over. 

It was raining, and paparazzi swarmed his house as he grabbed his keys to drive anywhere, no where, or somewhere in between. He swerved at a curb, and not bothering to lock his car, trudged into the record store. Someone looking at My Chemical Romance records asked him about the divorce. The teenaged girl behind the counter just gazed at him knowingly when he asked for a copy of "Soul Punk".

He liked the record. He really did. But from "kiss kiss, you and I have got to put an end to this" to "I'm not broken hearted, just kind of pissed off" the whole thing just seemed like a big fucking smack right across Pete's face. He hadn't seen Patrick since 2009. He'd never gotten a returned text, never a response to the confessions of how many songs were about him, to the pleads for forgiveness, and now Patrick was making a  _mockery_ of what Pete had felt for him. That bastard was taking his turn to write about Pete without him knowing. 

He thought he ought to call him, or fly to Chicago and give him a piece of his mind in person. But he never did. With "Bad Side of 25" playing in the background, Pete collapsed to his floor in sobs.

The irony began on December 1st. Patrick had opened his laptop to check up on the news, see what new rumors had been circulating about him and Fall Out Boy. His heart stopped as he read the headlines:  ** _Wentz-Simpson Split!_**

He felt like he was going to puke. Pete had to be tearing himself apart. And, oh god, he had been doing so much better, but this was Jeanae but worse, because Ashlee had Bronx. Patrick's head spun. It felt like it was 2005 again. 

It got ironic when the younger man was the one to call. Pete picked up on the 4th ring. 

"Pete?" Patrick was cautious.

"Patrick," Pete stated monotone. 

"I'm so sorry dude, I should've called sooner, it's been such a long time, I just want to make sure you're okay because of everything that happened. I know you don't handle these things well, and I can't live with not making sure that you're okay. We were best friends."

"Emphasis on were," Pete started. "You haven't fucking taken my calls in 2 years. Who do you think you are, Patrick?"

"It's just with my record and– have you heard it? Soul Punk?"

"Oooohhh I've heard it! I don't appreciate the fucking references to me, by the way." Patrick began to prepare a a comeback. 

"Don't even fucking try. The "I" in Lie, really? I literally said the same fucking thing to you Patrick. We had the conversation from the song. And can you stop using your generic female traits and names and internalized homophobia to cover everything up? You dick. Allie? Really?"

"I dated this girl in high–"

"Bull SHIT, Patrick! Bullshit! Andrew's bed? Drunk beyond my 15 years? That's us. Stop being such a douche. And no, I am not okay and now you care to check. 2 years and you didn't give a single shit! It doesn't matter anymore."

Patrick's fingers trembled as the line went dead. He was worried now, he'd been so shitty, and he had to make it right. He booked a flight to LA.

There was a knock on Pete's door just after 1 am on December 2, 2011. He heard someone fumble with the lock, and hazily assumed it could be Ashlee. Only 2 people knew where the spare keys were. There were light footsteps down the hall. And of course, it wasn't Ashlee. Not even close.

Patrick Stump was wearing a black suit. His hair was blond and his eyes were sad, Pete sat up in shock, deciding whether to be relieved or pissed off. His limbs seemed to move against his volition, sending him out of bed and into Patrick's arms. They hated each other. They loved each other. They cried together. And this time, Patrick didn't hesitate as Pete kissed him, they moved together in synchronicity, pressing wet cheeks against wet cheeks. "You look so great Patrick," Pete said. 

"I wish I could say the same for you."

"I want to be okay."

"I'm so fucking sorry."

"It's okay, 'Trick."

Patrick winced at the nickname. He knew it couldn't work, and he knew he could never go back to what it was before, sneaking around after shows and behind the backs of his girlfriend, Pete's wife. But still, he wrapped himself around the older boy under his covers, breathing to the beat of the rain, feeling like they were kids in a bus again, if only for the night. 


End file.
